


Turncoat A.U. Part 1

by ams75



Series: Turncoat A.U. [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: RipFic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 00:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11817210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ams75/pseuds/ams75
Summary: What if Rip had obeyed Thawne when ordered to kill them all? Part 2 has been started.





	Turncoat A.U. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since "Turncoat" aired again tonight in North America, thought this would be an appropriate time to post this.

Perched on a raised platform, Eobard Thawne proudly watched his creation as Captain Rip Hunter walked towards him.  "You killed George Washington."  
  
"Yes, I know. Well, that should get my former teammates' attention, and when they travel back in time to save him, I'll be there waiting for them with open arms. "  
  
"Well, not too open, I hope. "  
  
"No, have no fear, Mr. Thawne. I have no lingering attachment."  
  
"Ah, in that case," Thawne pushed himself off the platform and landed near Rip, "kill them all, collect their fragment of the Spear of Destiny, and bring it to me."  He sped off, leaving Rip in his wake.  
  
"Whoever knew time travel would be so much fun."  A fun evening was ahead, indeed.  
  
**********  
  
Sara, Mick Rory and as she preferred to think of him, their guest George Washington walked quickly away from the house. "Rip?" She started to run but then stopped, Rip wasn't reacting like he should be.  Warning bells had caused her to stop her mad dash before it had even had a chance to properly begin.  "Rip!" It didn't, however, stop her from questioning him.  "How did you get here?"  
  
Mick announced, "I don't like this."  
  
"Rip."  She demanded his attention.  
  
"Hello, Sara."  His men joined him and he finally looked at her.  It was definitely Sara Lance, always challenging him.  
  
He drew his gun and fired, the nuzzle flared red.  
  
He lowered the gun.  "Good-bye, Sara."  
  
Mick Rory barely caught her as she clutched her stomach.  The Redcoats surrounded them, some behind their quarry.  "Son of a bitch."  
  
"Mr. Rory, we meet again."  
  
"What the hell is wrong with you?" In Mick's experience, barring their first meeting, Rip was hardly a shoot first kind of guy.  Something was horribly wrong.  
  
"On the contrary, nothing has ever been more right. If anything, we're a bit more alike now, aren't we? Take them away!"  A redcoat took each arm and pulled Mr. Rory's arms back, away from Sara who collapsed to her knees, hand against her stomach, desperate to staunch the bleeding.  Shock, short sharp breaths and even the bitter cold didn't help as she fell backwards and sank into the snow.  
  
"Bring them! We have work to do."  Rip turned away as he heard the others hurrying to obey.  
  
**********  
  
  
"Heave!" Rip hollered, his flaming torch lighting the door of the currently dead _Waverider_.  "Put your backs into it! Heave!"  The ropes became taut again as the men pulled as hard as they could.  
  
Rip couldn't say how much later it was when he rallied his men.  "For England! Come on, you bastards, heave!" He ignored the impotent glares aimed at his back by the prisoners tied to the nearby trees.  Of course, they had been gagged so they couldn't distract his men nor plan a no doubt daring escape.    
  
Minutes, or was it hours later, the door finally gave in and the ramp was pulled out.  "Business before pleasure," he murmured as he signalled his troop to guard the door.  He walked over to the prisoners.  "Alas, it is time to say farewell.  I can't say it's been a pleasure, Mr. Rory."  He aimed his time period appropriate gun at Mick's head and pulled the trigger. "Miss Lance."  She was unconscious from the blood loss and biting cold.  No need to wake her up for this.  He raised the gun and shot her cleanly between the eyes.  He faced the last prisoner, who was trying furiously to escape his ropes.  "Mr. Washington," he said, deliberately insulting him, then completed his trio of bodies, shot between the eyes.  
  
He closed the distance between them and himself, bent low enough to check each neck for a pulse, just in case.  Miss Lance had cheated Death a few times already, he didn't want to make that rookie mistake.      
  
Nothing.  
  
He turned back to his Redcoats and walked over to the ramp and strode up into the ship, signalling the others to follow him.  
  
"Mm, it's good to be home."  Rip said as he pulled his hat and wig off and tossed them aside, he wouldn't be needing them again.  "Fan out."  He smoothed his hair.  "Kill anyone you find."  
  
He wasn't surprised when the first booby trap was sprung, only mildly disappointed in the quality of his help.  Ah well, if one wants something done right, one must do it oneself, he mused.    
  
He searched wildly, grabbing and throwing piles of paper to the floor, in the search for his segment of the Spear of Destiny.  Sounds of a struggle reached him and he grabbed his flaming torch and strode out of the room.  Time to put an end to this resistance.  
  
Soon, he found one of his men unconscious, wrists secured, lying on the floor beside what looked to be a Christmas present.  "Ooh, very clever."  The man was no use to him now so Rip left.  
  
As he walked, he mused out loud, "Now, which one of my former teammates could possibly be fighting back, hmm? Well, Miss Lance and Mr. Rory are dead. Professor Stein is a little over the hill for these sort of shenanigans, and Doctor Palmer is a trifle too small."  He raised his voice.  "Give it up, Jax! I taught you everything you know about the _Waverider_."  He came to a corridor on his right.  Was that movement? He turned and started to walk along it.  "I know every nook and cranny on this ship."  
  
He steadily made his way to the cargo bay.  "Mr. Jackson!" He neared the stairs and began his descent.  "You can't hide forever, Mr. Jackson!"  He walked determinedly as he looked around, flaming torch held high in his left hand, gun he had liberated from the armoury in his right.  "Something tells me I'm getting warmer."  He took a step, two, then  spun around and shot a now exposed Mr. Jackson as he tried to flee for his life.  The shot entered Mr. Jackson's spine and the young man tumbled forward and sprawled on the floor.  "Quite hot, I'd say."  Rip took a few steps as Mr. Jackson tried desperately to stand up, hands, arms, legs, feet all strangely not co-operating.  "Good-bye, Mr. Jackson."  He fired once more into the back of the head.  All struggles ceased.  Nevertheless, he checked for a pulse.  None.  He straightened and began to walk again, whistling.  Only Professor Stein and Doctor Palmer remained.  
  
He stopped whistling as he reached the top of the stairs.  Now, if he were Professor Stein, where would he hide? Silently, he made his way to the library.    
  
Oh, Professor, I thought you would have been a challenge.  Rip had holstered his gun, so he pulled the garrote from his pocket when he spotted his quarry and gripped the handles tightly as he walked up quietly behind his soon to be former crew mate.  One wrist crossed over the other, he quickly flung the cord over Stein's head and pulled his hands down, uncrossing them,  Stein immediately began gasping and tried to claw his fingers under the cord, desperate to breathe, but Rip only applied more pressure.  When the weight of the body forced it down to the floor, Rip used one hand to draw his gun.  With the professor lying on his back, Rip fired once, between the eyes.  
  
One left.  
  
He had no doubt what Doctor Palmer would be trying to do:  restore the power.  As he headed to the control room, he came across one of his troop.  "Sgt. Wheeler, please remove the body from the cargo bay, and the one in the library and place them outside with the others."  
  
"Yes sir!" With a hasty salute, he started to leave.  
  
"Ensure everyone else leaves this place.  Return to camp and put down this rebellion."  
  
"Sir, yes sir!" He hurried off.  Smart man; he didn't want to anger the captain.  
  
Rip hurried to the control room.  He immediately headed over to the lever that Doctor Palmer was trying to force down by jumping.  "Uh uh, Doctor Palmer."  Rip snatched the small man up.  "That wouldn't do at all."  
  
"Rip?" Ray practically squeaked.  
  
The squeak became a squeal of terror as Rip dropped him and he plunged to the floor.  "No, don't! Rip?!?"  
  
"Good-bye, Doctor Palmer."  He raised his foot and stomped it on the suit.  Even miniaturized as it was, it required a few more attempts before he felt it give way.  Rip pulled out a handkerchief and gathered up the squashed remains.  As he headed out of the ship, he kept an eye out for stragglers but spotted none.  The other two were placed with the rest and Rip laid the handkerchief on Mick's still chest.  
  
He wiped his hands clean, although nothing had been on them in the first place, and returned to the ship.  
  
Once he turned on the power and flew the ship out of this godforsaken era, he had all the time in the world to search for his segment of the Spear of Destiny.  
  
***************  
  
"Nathaniel!" Amaya ululated.  
  
He'd never heard her sound that way before and he wrenched his eyes from the departing _Waverider_ , high above their heads.  He bit back the urge to scream that they were still there, don't forget about them and cast his eyes downward.  It took a few seconds for the nightmarish reality to drill into his brain.  "I think I'm going to--" He turned quickly to the side and heaved what remained of his last meal.  
  
"This isn't true, right, Nathaniel? Tell me this isn't true!" She grabbed him tightly and shook him until he was able to wrap his arms around her.  
  
Unfortunately for him, he now had an even better view of the bodies.  "Is that--" What hadn't come out before forced its way out this time.  When he was able to move again, clutching each other, they made their way over to the vaguely recognizable man.  It was George Washington.  George Washington, one of the Founding Fathers.  George Washington, murdered before the Redcoats had been defeated.  
  
George Washington, who had fought his war a century before the North and the South had almost destroyed these United States of America.  
  
George Washington, a hundred years before slavery was abolished, except of course, it wasn't.  Prisons ran for profit were still being run today (the future, he had to remind himself, a far, far future that will never come to be) filled with black men, outrageously convicted of the most trivial infractions and forced to work for free and obey their masters and oh god, Amaya was stuck in this time now as he was but the ramifications for her were much worse..  
  
What he saw next hit him far harder.  A once white handkerchief lay crumpled on Mick Rory's chest.  He reached towards the handkerchief but his vision was filled by Amaya.  "We have to get out of here!" She batted his hand away; she probably knew exactly what he feared and didn't want it confirmed.  Neither did he but didn't he owe it to--  
  
She tugged his hands, silently imploring him to stand up.  "We can't do anything for them," she said quietly.  Fearing he wouldn't be able to speak around the huge lump in his throat, he nodded.  They slowly walked away with only the clothes on their backs for warmth.  
  
THE END

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it to the end, thank you for reading.


End file.
